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As you trudge through the week...

Aries (3/21 – 4/19): I heard someone mention that, "with 7 billion people on the planet now..." and it freaked me out a little, because I didn't think we were there yet. Turns out we have until October. Aries, this week enjoy the space while you can. Dance and spin with your arms extended. Sing out loud.

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20): I was at our little local grocery store buying kale the other day because that's all that grows around here anymore during this endless winter, when the guy in front of me started talking to my favorite checker about knitting. It turns out he's teaching himself to knit, and began with a pair of pants. I know! I happen to be someone who knits -- I can knit a hat, a sweater, or even a sock, but pants seem like a pretty big challenge, not just technically, but fashion-wise. Especially fashion-wise. Don't take the knit pants challenge, Taurus. There's enough baggy weirdness in the world without that. Be part of the solution already. But, I'm sorry to say that this week will feel a little baggy and weird at first. Try to enjoy it, and if that's hard, say this over and over: "my week is not itchy my week is not itchy it may be baggy and weird but my week is not itchy."

Gemini (5/21 – 6/21): The other morning when it wasn't quite light yet, and that's actually saying a lot, I found myself carrying a dead mouse outside to deal with "later", (which hasn't actually come up yet, this later time when I'm going to do something with the stiffened mouse). I set the trap myself, only snapped my finger in it once, and the peanut butter didn't go flying all over. It seems weird to bury it, right? Like that scene in Garden State? Anyway, I was thinking about what killing this creature has done to my karma and what I'll have to do to clean it up. I think it will take a lot. I've got to give it away, give everything away, think pure thoughts, save many lives, give generous gifts covered in white cloth and adorned with flowers. I don't know if I'm up for it, Gemini, but if there's anything you want, now's a good time to ask.

Cancer 6/22 – 7/21: Do you ever have that sleepy part in the afternoon where you need a cup of tea, and you find a half-full (optimist that you are) cup of something that looks like tea, so you add another bag, water, and honey to it, heat it, but when you taste it, you realize the first half was coffee? Oh, I hate that. That is not unlike how your week will be, unfortunately. The first half, strong, punchy, and seriously wakeful. The second half will be kind of mellow and sweet, and full of anti-oxidants. Around mid-week, when it's changing over, the week will taste a little funny, but only to you. When you ask around, "Hey, does this week taste funny?" people will just look at you like you're crazy. You aren't, Cancer. Not even close. But it's an acquired taste, this week, so keep your mind and your heart open, and drink up.

Leo (7/23 – 8/22): Okay, Leo, not to stray too far from the topic, which is you and your upcoming awesome week, but does it seem like texting a picture your private pants area is grounds to call for resignation? Are crimes against a relationship the same as crimes against the populace? Does anyone remember 43, and the stuff he endorsed, like waterboarding and lying about wmd in Iraq, and outing Valerie Plame? But that wasn't as bad as texting a crotch shot, right? Okay, back to you, Leo. Your week will be a little chewy. Take your time to enjoy it, and be sure to carry a knife, not as a weapon, but just to cut things into more manageable chunks.
Virgo (8/23 – 9/22): Oh, Virgo, you're so not vain, you probably don't think this horoscope is about you, but it is! It's totally for you. I had this dream last night where a person at my workplace offered me a ride home, but instead of bringing me home, she dropped me off downtown and said I could take the bus. I was fine with it, like, "Oh, that's okay. Thanks for dropping me off 35 miles from my home. I have a bus pass!" But I went down in the bus tunnel, and it was lined with books. Real books, but they didn't seem real, which got my attention to the point of losing my wallet. Luckily, my bus pass was in my pocket, so my main concern was not my missing wallet, but fear that the books weren't cataloged. I woke up anxious about that, and then totally relieved, like, oh, phew, that was just a bad dream! There are people who organize the information! What a good world we live in.

If you're a different Virgo, the one whom I called for a favor, placed on hold, and hung up on eventually, oh, shoot, forgive me for that. See Gemini, above. I'll be giving everything away. Give it away, give it away. Enough about you. Back to the horoscope: Virgo, don't underestimate this week. It is quite possibly going to be the Best. Week. Ever.

Libra (9/23 – 10/22): I was reading about the urn labeled "grandma's ashes" that turned up at a goodwill store. The store is assuming it's a mistake, and they're hoping someone will claim them. I think Grandma just wanted Goodwill as her final resting place. But that shouldn't concern you this week. Not at all. When I asked an expert about the Libra horoscope, he made this giant shooting motion and was reluctant to clarify. Be careful.

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21): If we ever do get any sun, check this out. A solar-powered bikini. Then tweet a picture of yourself charging stuff. That's totally hot, I suppose -- sitting outside in the sun.

Saggitarius (11/22 – 12/21): I believe it's Duvall-henge this week, where the setting sun will line up directly with the one alley in town, shooting a ray of light and energy directly up the alley and into the adoring crowd in the drugstore parking lot. Bring folding chairs, drinks, and be prepared to tell some good stories while you wait for the sun to go down. Oh wait, I made that up. That should be an actual thing, right? Can you figure out what day that will happen? Using math and stuff?

Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19): Those Sarah Palin e-mails turned out to be a whole lot of nothing, didn't they? But it did make me think about my own e-mails, which haven't yet been released, but they go something like this:

Me: Hey Nick, wanna get coffee?
Nick: Okay.

More of this gripping stuff will be released eventually, I'm sure. Don't be too cocky this week, Capricorn. Take it slow, be thoughtful. Listen hard.

Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18): Do you wonder what kind of outpatient treatment it is that cures a rich, successful guy married to a gorgeous woman from the disease of photographing his crotch and tweeting it? Is ginko involved? Don't think about that, Aquarius. Instead, think about how Mr. Weiner has answered the burning question we've all had, "what the hell is twitter for?" Now we know, thanks to the weiner-waver himself. But Aquarius, you're better than all of that, and so too will your week be.

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20): What if, on October 21, when the rapture is supposed to for sure happen, not like the last time, we called it Non-Judgement Day, and tried our hardest not to judge one another, at least for that one day? Let's try practicing this week.

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